


Bound in Blood

by Talonwillow (TalonWillow)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, American Harry Potter, Americanisms, Blood Drinking, Blood Pacts, Blood Sharing, Bullying, F/M, Halloween Costumes, Vampire Hermione Granger
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26900905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalonWillow/pseuds/Talonwillow
Summary: When a blood oath is made between young friends, their bond’s implications will surprise both when ten years later, they meet again. Both have been changed almost beyond recognition, but nothing could keep them from each other when love and blood are on the line.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 9
Kudos: 90
Collections: Mermaids Werewolves Veela — Oh My! A Creature Harmony Halloween Competition





	Bound in Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HarmonyHalloweenCompetition2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarmonyHalloweenCompetition2020) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Harry attends a Halloween party. Little does he know that Hermione’s sultry vampire costume isn’t a costume at all.
> 
> This piece was written for A Creature Harmony Halloween Competition hosted by Harmony & Co. All canon characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work. Thank you to my alpha/beta for their work on this piece.

**A small southern town, October 31, 1993**

  
  


Harry looked around the gymnasium for his best friend's signature curly waves, forgetting that she had it up in a classy bun instead. Although his attention should be on Parvati, the Jasmine look-alike that he was dancing awkwardly with, he couldn't help but look for her. 

A yellow dress, he was sure she was wearing a yellow dress. But there were yellow dresses everywhere. How did it just happen that Hermione's favorite fairy tale character, Belle, was also the most popular female Halloween costume that year? 

The three musketeers, otherwise known as Harry, Ron, and Hermione, were attending the last Halloween School Dance of their middle school careers. As the JV Basketball team captain, Harry was expected to be there and even speak some words later in the night about their upcoming game against their rivals, the Eagles. Since it would also mark Hermione's first-ever time at a dance, as she wanted to show her support for Harry's new role, the friends had all agreed to make sure to keep an eye out for each other. 

Ron, dressed as Batman—even though Harry could argue that with his costume being Dracula, he could be considered the real “batman”—was dancing nearby with Parvati's twin, Padma, who was also dressed as Jasmine. Their whirling clumsy boxy steps were just as frightening as Harry's and made him feel slightly more at ease. As the song changed from the 'Prince of Thieves' ballad to a more upbeat PM Dawn tune, Harry excused himself. 

Wiping the sweat he had accumulated on his palms off onto his bat-like cape, he looked around again. Where could Hermione be? 

* * *

Hermione Granger had not wanted to come to the Halloween Dance in the first place. The bookworm was more at home in the library than in the gymnasium anyways. Her home-made costume was a nod to her favorite bookish character, Belle, from Beauty and the Beast. Sure it was a little childish, but it was a relief to see some of the other girls had chosen to dress as their favorite characters as well. Although Lavender's interpretation of the Little Mermaid was bordering on quite slutty, if you asked her. 

Middle school had been quite hard on her so far. Her family had moved here from England when she was only five years old. The other kids had been vicious in making fun of her accent and her unusual mannerisms. They still teased her to this day about her idea of what a biscuit was and mercilessly called her ‘cookie’. In this small southern town, a biscuit had a whole different meaning. 

She, Harry, and Ron had just 'clicked' from their first meeting in kindergarten, and they had been attached at the hip ever since. But things were changing. The world was changing; her life was changing. Her parents were separating, and she had heard the hushed whisperings about her and her mother going back to England.

Ron and Harry were changing, too; they used to be just as nerdy as she was, but ever since they had both gotten on the Basketball team, everyone wanted to be around them. However, that was not the case with Hermione; the other kids still viewed her as the weird, British, curly-haired, buck-tooth, know-it-all that everyone tried in vain to ignore or annoy. 

“Hey, Granger. Krum was looking for you. Says he has something he wants to give you.”

Draco Malfoy was the worst of the bunch. The blond jerk was by far the most popular boy in the school; it seemed he had a new girlfriend each week. He and his little group of minions that followed at his heels loved to torment her and her friends any chance they got. They would bully Ron because his family didn't have that much money and Harry—well, she thought he was just jealous of Harry. Now, it seems he was trying to get the foreign exchange student to try and kiss her on a dare. 

Hermione ran from the gymnasium, tears threatening to come, as ‘Achy-Breaky Heart' started playing over the speakers. 

* * *

As soon as his dance with Padma ended, Harry wanted to continue searching for his best friend. Instead, he had been attacked by girls trying to get his attention. 

Romilda cornered him and giggled, "Hey Dracula, you can suck my neck anytime..." She offered him a plate with various snacks from the desert area with a coy smile, "Chocolate?" 

Harry responded, "Oh, no, thank you..." before her flirtatious meaning made sense to him. With a strained lopsided grin and what he was sure was a full-faced blush, "Oh, um… Maybe some other time, excuse me." He then spotted and hurried after the bright yellow dress of the Ball’s true Belle, Hermione. 

Ron saw him running out of the room. He reluctantly pulled out of his dance hold with his current dance partner, Ariel/Lavender. 

"Hold that thought. Batman will be right back," Ron growled out in a rough gravelly voice, much different than his typically higher-pitched one. 

"Hermione, wait up," Harry called after the crying girl. 

"Leave me alone, please." Hermione shucked her tears, not wanting Harry and Ron to see the pain in her eyes. "You guys, I’m fine. I just… Please, go back and enjoy the dance." 

The boys caught up to their female counterpart and took in the dusty room she had chosen as her refuge. 

"Spooky in here, isn't it?" Ron stated, abandoning his batman persona at the sight of the cobwebs hanging from the unused skeletons of what must have been a science classroom. 

"Hermione. Is it Malfoy again?" Harry began, putting his arm around her shoulder in comfort.

"Don't let that spoiled little rich kid bother you," Ron said, though not looking at her; he was still taking in the creepiness of the room.

"I know, it's just," Hermione started, voice shaking from crying, "why are kids so mean? It's not just Draco. Viktor has been chasing me all evening, telling me he has something for me, and I'm pretty sure it's only because Draco dared him to kiss me. And Lavender, as soon as I walked in, said they didn't have any biscuits. Hannah has been giving me glares all evening; I think because we are wearing the same costume. Ronald, even your sister, and Seamus have been a right terror lately. Why can't everyone just leave me alone?" Hermione's dam broke at that moment, leaving the two teenage boys not knowing how to handle her tears. 

"There, there," Ron tried consolingly, with a pat to her shoulder, like he had seen his mother do countless times. It was a very Non-batman like thing to do. "It'll get better. I bet ten years from now, when you're a CEO of a multi-million dollar company, these jerks are gonna regret calling you a bushy-haired know-it-all." 

Hermione smiled up at him, grateful for his kind words, even if she was pretty sure he was way off on exactly where she would be in the future. 

"Or a buck-toothed brit," he added, "Or a bookwormy biscuit-lover…" 

Ron was oblivious to Harry and Hermione staring at him, continuing his litany of names. 

"Ok, Ron. I think she gets it," Harry interjected, hoping Ron's carelessness hadn't hurt the girl more than she was already hurting. 

"I'm not Ron; I’m Batman… Ahhhh! It’s a spider; it’s on me! Get it off, get it off me! It's gonna eat me!" 

Hermione reached over. With the yellow glove from her costume, she brushed the spider off the rapidly breathing teen with a disdainful glare. 

"I think what breathless Batman was trying to say was," Harry faced Hermione and stared at her with those penetrating green eyes behind his stylish glasses. "Things are gonna get better. Ten years from now, we are gonna laugh about how horrible middle school was." 

Hermione swiped at some stray tears; she couldn't imagine her life without Harry and, when he was not screaming about spiders, Ron, in it. "Well, who's to guarantee we will still be around each other in ten years even to be able to laugh about it?" Hermione knew she needed to tell them about her suspicions. 

Harry stared at her, aware she was keeping something from them. 

"Of course we will still be around each other, we are all gonna go to college and get an apartment together. I mean, you two can't expect me to graduate middle school, let alone college without your help, right?" Ron had been laughing, but he got sober real quick as reality hit him. "Right? We are the three musketeers, after all." 

Hermione knew she could confide in them anything and everything. And she knew she needed to. "Well, actually, about that."

"Hermione, what is it? You know you can tell us anything," Harry gently urged her, knowing he was not going to like where this was going. 

Tears started to gather in her eyes as she realized what the words she needed to say out loud would mean. She rushed the message out quickly, hoping to get it over with, like ripping off a bandaid. "My mum and dad are separating, and I overheard her saying she and I may be moving back to England after Christmas."

The ripping off did not help. It was just as painful to say it out loud as it was to rest with the knowledge in her head. 

Harry and Ron responded precisely how she expected they would. Looking to each other and then looking to her, not knowing what to say. 

"But we haven't been apart since we were five years old," Ron was the first to break the silence. He walked to the window and stared outside at the young children in the streets below, collecting candy. Ron was aware that things were changing. He was changing, in some ways, more than others. He was hoping to be dancing with Lavender right now, and maybe even asking her to go steady. He hadn't wanted to hear that one of his best friends was going to be moving away—very far away at that. 

"But why can't you stay here with your dad?" Harry placed his hand on Hermione's shaking shoulder, hoping he was doing this right. He had just started realizing his feelings for the girl. Harry didn't quite know how to navigate them just yet; now, there was the question of if he should even have feelings considering what she had just told them. Like he could stop them if he even wanted to. 

"It won't work. Mum said something about us staying with Gran until she gets on her feet, and Dad can sell his Dental practice here. See, he is moving there as well, just not with us. I guess he has met someone new and well… Anyways." Hermione swiped at her eyes confidently; she hadn't meant to let all of that out. Her boys had always depended on her. She needed to be strong right now.

"Right, so…" Harry had to change this around. He hated seeing her sad, and Ron was no use as he was inspecting his bat-belt. "Here we go, we are going to make a pact, right here, right now that we will all be together in ten years. No matter if we're CEO's, Doctors, in college or NFL players…"

"What kind of pact?" Ron asked, his attention gained at the mention of the NFL. "Like blood brothers? Well, I guess it'd have to be more like blood-brothers-and-a-sister wouldn't it?" 

"Really, a blood pact? But that's so barbaric." Hermione laughed, slightly amused, that these two wanted to ensure their continued existence in each other's lives with such a juvenile display. 

"Well, yeah. Let's make a blood pact. Ron, do you still have your swiss army knife, or did Mr. Filch confiscate it again?" 

Ron took his trusty little red knife out of his black and yellow pack at his waist and tossed it carefully to Harry. "So, I heard Dudley talking about him and his friends doing this once. You just make a little cut on your palm…" 

"Are we really doing this, Harry?" Usually, Hermione knew the answer to a question before she would ask them. This once, she looked to her best friend, the boy she had shared so much with, and let him be the one to answer. 

The little knife blade was poised right over Harry's spread palm as he glanced at Hermione. He knew inside he would do just about anything for this girl, whether he had the guts to admit it or not.  He was not so naive to believe that magic was real and that by making this little blood pact, it would bind him to her forever. Still, if it could prove to her the lengths he would go for her, then he would take a chance on make-believe magic any day.

He held her gaze, his small smile turned to a grimace on his lips to hide the slight stinging pain, brought on by the dull blade pressing into his palm. The warmth flooding his palm grabbed his attention first, then the sound of a body thumping hard on the floor grabbed it next. 

"Ron?"

"Harry, he's passed out." They both rushed over to the unconscious Batman to make sure he hadn't injured himself on the way down. "It must have been the sight of the blood." Hermione had aspirations to go into the medical field post-high school. With the amount of light reading in general first-aid she had done, she felt confident enough that he was, for the most part, alright. 

Harry was kneeling over Ron, with whom his attention should be solely, but she could feel his eyes on her. She giggled to herself at the situation she was in at the moment. Batman, lying on the floor unconscious, and Dracula, stooping over him with a bleeding hand staring at Belle with a look in his eye that she really did not mind seeing. 

What was Harry thinking? A blood sibling pact? Like that was going to keep them together. There was no scientific reasoning behind it, and quite honestly, it's very unsafe from a medical perspective. But she loved seeing that hope in his eyes, and well, with Ron being out for the count, she didn't feel it fair for Harry to be the only one to participate. No one could ever say she wasn't a team player. Reaching across Ron's unconscious form, Hermione grabbed the little red blade out of Harry's hand. Without putting an ounce more thought into it, she sliced down her palm the way Harry had done on his own. Wincing at the sting as the air hit, she grabbed at Harry's hand, not wanting his wound to dry before the ridiculously useless, albeit adorable, sentiment was for naught. 

"So, what do we do now?" Harry said as they grasped each other's outstretched hands across their limp friend. 

Hermione looked at him incredulously. "You didn't think this plan out?" 

"Honestly, I didn't think you'd go through with it," Harry laughed out sheepishly. "Ok, so I think we just say… well, maybe if we just… Ok, Hermione. I promise, no matter what, ten years from now, we will be a part of each other's lives."

Hermione looked into his dazzling green eyes, no longer a little boy's eyes. "Yes, I promise, too. No matter what is going on ten years from now, we will meet up. That is to say if we haven't met up before that time already. I mean, I do plan to come and visit. I mean, I hope to, at least." Harry looked hopeful but knew better. Having lost his parents at an early age, he knew that things didn't always work out the way you wanted them to. 

They let go of their hands as they heard groaning coming from beneath where they were kneeling. 

"What happened?" 

"You passed out as soon as you saw the blood on Harry's hand," Hermione said as she ripped a piece of the taffeta-like ruffle at the bottom of her dress to bind up the cut on Harry's hand and her own. They didn't need Ron passing out again. "You ok there, Ronald? How many fingers am I holding up." 

"Come on, Hermione, I'd have a hard time with that even if I hadn't hit my head," Ron joked. 

He was fine.

The three sat on the ground of the dark, spooky, abandoned classroom, looking at each other. Harry and Hermione were caring for their cuts on their hands while Ron rubbed at the goose egg he had received from his fall, grateful he had missed out on the blood-letting. The three musketeers had reached their final run. 

"Everythings is going to change now, isn't it?" Hermione asked, more to the room than to the boys. 

  
  


And, boy, did things change. 

* * *

  
  


**Same small southern town, ten years later, 2003**

  
  
  


Harry straightened his wizard robes and scanned the room, looking for the curly waves of his best friend's hair. Assuming she had received his invitation, of course. 

He had tried everything at his disposal to locate the elusive Hermione Granger. He had sent a letter to her mother's last known address, which was strangely enough in Australia. He had searched the World Wide Web for any mention of her in both England or the States as well as messaging her now disabled AOL account. Harry had even used some contacts in the magical world who knew how to find certain No-Maj's, or Muggles as they were called in Europe, but he kept coming up empty.

It was like she had vanished. 

He held onto hope, though, that she had received one of those messages. After all, she was the reason why he was even hosting this party tonight. Sure, it was a fun night to cut loose with the small group of friends that Harry had kept in touch from school—well, his ordinary, non-magical school, that is. 

Shortly after his 14th birthday, and six long, difficult months after Hermione had moved back to England, Harry had received a most peculiar visitor to his home. It was an instructor named Ms. McGonagall from a school in Massachusetts. She had come to inform Harry that he came from a long line of magical family members. His parents, before their death, were some of the school's most gifted students. 

He attended his conventional school as expected, but then he would study his craft at Ilvermorny with other magical teens during the summer breaks and weekends. He had adapted quite nicely to embracing both worlds, even though it killed him to keep such a monumental thing from his friends. 

Harry now worked for the police department a few towns over as their magical liaison. To most, he was just Officer Potter, but in the Magical World, he was a fierce protector of witches and wizards. As fate would have it, Draco Malfoy ended up working in the same precinct as him. With the two former enemies' now working as co-workers, the spoiled man, who could still be quite a jerk, ended up being wherever Harry was. 

"Hey, Potter, I invited some of the old gang to your little shin-dig here. I hope your liquor cabinet is well stocked." 

At Draco's encroachment into his thoughts, Harry looked around to see that his loft apartment had almost doubled in occupants. 

"Just who are all these people?" Harry inquired as he discretely cast a  _ Gemino _ charm around the corner at the food table to accommodate the new amount needed. Dressing like a wizard for Halloween had its perks; no one would bat an eye that he was carrying around a wand. He might catch some hell from his magical friends on the force for casting that around No-Maj's, but it was better than rushing out to try and get more food. 

"Oh, you remember everyone from the good ole days. I know you weren't around that much, but the green guy is Crabbe, Eminem over there is Greg Goyle. Hey, remember that exchange student Viktor?" Draco started laughing to himself, presumably at a memory, "that's him over there dressed as The Rock. Oh, and that's Pansy dressed as I don't know...a slutty vampire, I guess. Hands off her, though, Potter," Draco said with a friendly slap on his shoulder that showed more familiarity than was warranted. 

Harry looked over to who Draco was referring to. Pansy was something Harry would have no problem keeping his hands off of. Her costume was a sad knockoff of what one would think a vampire would look like; Pale makeup, dark lips, a corseted top pushing her breasts out, a teeny-tiny little skirt, and high heeled, thigh-high boots. Harry had personally met vampires, not that he could tell Draco this, and they would not be caught dead, no pun intended, wearing that. 

"I've been trying to get her since Junior year." Draco finished his thought while shaking his head, looking at Pansy. "Damn, she can suck me anytime." 

Harry could not help but choke a little on his drink. He had heard something similar the last time he was dressed ridiculously like a vampire. 

"Who's the rest of them?" Harry questioned. 

"I don't know," Draco shrugged his shoulders while digging into the bag of chips he'd grabbed out of Harry's hand. "I thought those were all your friends?"

It had started as an intimate Halloween party with just invitations sent to Hermione and Ron and his new wife, Lavender. Ginny, Ron's sister, had somehow gotten word and invited God knows who, and now, he wasn't even sure who everyone was. 

"Well, let’s see. I’m pretty sure that's Padma and Parvati over there." Harry pointed to the two Jasmines from Aladdin; they needed to expand their costume choices. "And Ginny is over there, Ginny Weasley. You remember her, right? Ron's sister. She is the Devil in the red dress.” 

"Yeah, I remember her. Isn't that Ron over there, dancing with her?" Draco scrunched his face as he watched the brother and sister dance closer than two siblings should.

"Nope, that has to be Seamus Finnegan; you know the 'Ka-boom kid'... Knowing him, he probably thought it'd be hilarious to come dressed as Ron for the night. In Ron's Jersey and the Helmet, it is kind of hard to tell, but he and Ginny have been dating for the last six months. But with how close they are dancing, let's hope that's him." Harry chuckled, feeling slightly more comfortable around Draco than he had ever been. 

"Where is Ron?”

Harry got a little wistful. The idea that his two closest friends were no longer a part of his life was a hard pill to swallow. "He and Lavender had a baby girl a couple of months ago, Little Ariel. He couldn't get away. I haven't seen much of him since he got drafted." 

Draco must've understood Harry's sadness and was not sure what to do with it. He started sipping awkwardly at his beer before jabbing Harry in the shoulder and pointing over towards Harry's fire escape window. 

"Now, who is that?'

Harry looked up at his insistence to see what was so important. Standing there, leaning against the wall in the shadows, was a woman. Her long, dark, mahogany-colored waves hung down, covering her face as her head was bowed slightly, obscuring her identity. 

Skin-tight leather pants clung to long legs, making them look like they had been painted on by Michelangelo. Her skin, what he could see beneath her long black jacket, was smooth, pale, and resembled polished marble. The hair on the back of Harry's neck began to tingle as it dawned on Harry that he was in the presence of a vampire. Not the cheap costume-wearing kind like Pansy, either. 

"If you will excuse me, Potter…." Draco announced as he pulled at the pinstriped suit lapels of his 1930's gangster costume. "I've got a Tommy-gun with her name written all— "

"I think you need to let me handle this one, Draco," Harry interjected. Aware that as much as he wouldn't mind letting the jerk get bit by a vampire, having that done under his watch could make for some extensive paperwork. Besides, there was something different about this vampire. 

"I see, finally making a move. So you’re not gay. Thank God. I was tired of figuring out ways to turn you down gently." Draco turned his attention elsewhere. "Hey Pans, Do you suck or…." 

Harry stared towards the creature at the corner, who had garnered her fair share of attention. She was crowded by Ginny, Parvati, and Hannah Abbott.

This was bad. If the creature were a feral vampire, she could let loose on anyone here, putting everyone at risk. Harry reached into the pocket of his wizard robes. He felt for his wand, ready to use it if necessary, he could mind-alter the party later. Slowly, so as not to raise suspicion, he stalked towards the group.

Hannah stretched her hand over to touch the fabric of the mystery woman’s jacket. "I love your costume. It's so authentic. Did you get this at Hot Topic? Parvati used to work there, didn't you Par?" the bubbly blonde asked innocently as the stunning monster stood bone still, allowing the girls to fawn over her. Harry could sense in her posture that she was aware of his advancing closeness.

"Yeah. Years ago," Parvati answered, gawking, adoration washing over her face. "Oh my gosh, you're so pretty. How did you get your hair color, so vibrant, mine came out so flat. Do you work with Harry?" 

"No, he's an old friend." The vampire, definitely not from around here, conversed with such command in her tone that it stopped Harry's slow progression on her. 

That voice; the voice occupied his dreams and haunted his nightmares simultaneously. 

"No way, that's so awesome." Pansy Parkinson was joining the conversation now; apparently, Draco's flirting failed. Her voice was filled with jealousy and mock sweetness, "we are all old friends of Harry's as well," she stated. Which was a lie, as Harry barely knew who she was aside from the piece of ass Draco had been trying to get.

"I love your accent, British, right?" Ginny interjected. "We used to know a British girl, didn't we? She was in our grade in middle school." Ginny looked to the other girls for clarification. 

Harry hung back, waiting for the verbal confirmation on something he was already pretty sure about. 

"It was some old person’s name like Helga," Parvati mentioned.

"Or Henrietta." Hannah offered up.

"No, it was our friend Minny. I remember, cause her name sounded so much like mine," Ginny beamed at what she thought was the right answer. 

"She was your friend, but yet you all can't seem to agree on what her name was?" The way the woman spoke was like silk running over soft skin. So even, so lovely, so enrapturing, yet tinged with disdain at the young woman's naivety. The tension should be thick enough to cut with a knife because of how she responded to them with such authority, such command. But the girls, as they were not behaving like women, just giggled to each other. Hannah reached out again to touch the creature's shoulder like they were old friends at the bar. Harry observed the vampire lean down to look at the hand on her body, the curtain of hair falling to the side, letting him catch a glimpse of her profile. 

"No, see, we just called her Cookie most of the time," Hannah's laugh made it sound like she hadn't just been spoken to condescendingly. "I mean it was such a weird name, and she was a bizarre chick anyways… What was her name? Ugh." 

"Her name was Hermione," Harry spoke out into the room, startling the giggling girls who hadn't heard him coming up close. But she wasn't surprised. She just stood there still looking at the hand on her shoulder, now clutching tightly due to the fright Harry had given them. A dark smirk spread across crimson lips that no shade of lipstick could hope to match. "And she was my best friend." 

"That's right, you, Ron, and her were attached at the hip, it seemed," Ginny added, eyeing Harry and the way he was looking at the newcomer. Harry and Ginny had a short romance throughout high school. But she was only interested in him during the basketball season, so he shut that down quickly. "I really do love your vampire costume, by the way. Maybe I could borrow it sometime? Hey, Harry, where's those little cakes inside the plastic cauldrons? Seamus had one earlier..." 

Harry did not let his eyes deviate from the gorgeous stranger, who was no real stranger at all. "In the dining room, over there." He pointed his wand towards the dining room, pretending to use it as a prop to show the girls the direction but casting a wordless silencing charm at the same time. This long-overdue conversation needed to go uninterrupted. 

All three girls went towards the dining room, snickering about Harry's dramatic flair.

"So, you did get my invitation?" 

"What invitation?" She finally cast a sharp look up at him from the side. 

"What do you mean, what invitation, Hermione?" He gave a half-laugh; he couldn't let his guard down in front of her. She was, after all, a real vampire. But she was also his Hermione. A musketeer, the Belle of the ball, his best friend. 

She finally turned to face Harry. Her eyes, a deep red, almost black-looking in the shadows. Gone were the chocolate brown he used to adore and dream about. Yet, though the color was different, they were the same; they still held comfort, understanding, and acceptance. They also foretold of danger, thirst, and—Harry was intrigued to see—desire. Her tender age's soft flesh was no more; instead, new sharp angles that were beautiful and becoming on her. Harry had never seen a more stunning woman than the one standing before him now. 

Hermione sauntered up to him and put her pristinely white thin fingers into the top fold of his robe, and pulled him a little closer to her. She molded near to his ear, closer than Harry would care to have a vampire, but he craved to have his Hermione even closer yet. "I never received an invitation, Harry." Where there should have been breath coming out, there was nothing but the melody of her voice.

Hating that there was an audible gulp that escaped his throat, Harry replied, "Don't vampires need an invitation to enter into someone's home?" She wandered around him and appraised him like he was a cut of meat at a slaughterhouse. 

Her laugh was a poem as it rolled out her slanted lips; she had somehow managed to back him into the shadowed corner she occupied earlier. Harry became keenly aware that no one was paying her any attention now while all eyes had been on her earlier. 

In this little corner, it was just them: a vampire and her prey. 

Her intoxicating smell, a combination of the cold, a hyacinth, and something tangy and metallic, was flooding him. Hermione let her finger trace up and over his torso in different spaces. The trail it was leaving was torture. For something so cold, it left a trail of warmth in its wake. "Well, I didn’t receive a written invitation. However, you certainly did invite me." 

She reached for his wrist with her cold hand and examined it. While looking up at him, Hermione brought his wrist to her mouth. Fear, adrenaline, and a little bit of excitement immobilized Harry as the idea that she was about to bite him, with a multitude of witnesses around, entered his consciousness. Keeping her eyes leveled on his, she touched the fleshy mound of his palm intimately with her lips. Harry's eyes rolled back in the back of his head. 

Hermione placed his hand into her own; Harry could feel his pulse pumping through the ten-year-old mark on his palm. He could also feel the gentle rise of her scar. 

"A certain blood pact ring a bell?" She looked down at their entwined hands and drew them tight to her chest. Harry could feel the top of her breast through her shirt. "See Harry, because of this. I knew I needed to be at this place, on this date, with you. Although I had no choice, I could think of nowhere else I would rather be." Her alluring predatory smile was mixed with something softer. The friendliness was such an odd contrast to her powerful presence. 

"In truth, I have wanted to see you so much over the last five years since, well… my change." Hermione put a flawless finger up to his lips to halt his oncoming barrage of questions, now that his brain had seen the small kink in the vampire's armor. "I see the questions churning in your head, let me get this out. It would have been impossible to see you while I was in my, shall we say, 'infancy.' I would have lost all control, and I don't know what would happen were I to taste your blood. It could kill us both, or ... Be the single most intense thing either of us will ever feel." Harry could see a vulnerability edge out from behind her surface. "And I just didn't know how you would take me being, well, this way, especially when you work so hard to protect your kind from creatures like me." 

His brain was telling him it was fear keeping his even gaze on hers, but his heart was telling him something different. "Hermione, you are my best friend, and I love you no matter what..." Harry swallowed back his words, fearing if he said anything else, he would say too much and confess to her that he has loved her since they were children and would love her whether she drank blood instead of beer.

His reassuring words brought a grin to her lips. Her elongated canines flashed in the dim light, sending a sense of alarm as well as intrigue shooting through his body. 

The way she stared at him made him assume she wanted to sink her teeth into him, and in all honesty, he would probably have no choice but to submit to her at that moment. His desire for her was so great. But he remembered how she had brushed her lips over his pulse point and not given in, so she must've learned a great deal of control over the years. Gracefully, she shifted her arms onto either side of Harry's throat, securing them behind his neck—such a casual, humanlike stance. 

Hermione's head came forward once again; her hair grazing his ear. The coolness of her tongue as it traced a path over the pulse point on his neck was such an intimate and erotic motion. He was glad to be wearing robes; otherwise, his erection would be standing proud for all to see.

"Hermione," Harry groaned out. 

At that moment, Harry was brought out of the trance he was in by the disjointed jeering and mocking from the rowdy group of people occupying his little two-bedroom, loft apartment. 

"Get a room already..."

"Wow, Potter works fast..." 

"Told you he wasn't gay, Malfoy, you owe me fifty bucks..." 

"Would you two kiss already...

"Shame, shame, we know your name... actually, we don't know her name, do we?" 

The moment lost, Harry leaned his head onto her shoulder, noticing his breath coming out a little more broken than the norm. "Ok, question. Are any of my guests at risk of being bitten?"

Although Harry had one thing on his mind, that did involve some of the peanut gallery's suggestions. Namely, getting a room, specifically his room, and kissing her already. It would be unethical for him to not get the potentially grizzly details out of the way first.

She snickered then propped a hand against his chest. "My thirst was well sated before I got here." 

Harry noticed she did not answer the question altogether. 

"Next question," Harry broached this one a little more cautiously, knowing he needed to phrase it so that she could give him a direct answer."Am I at risk of being bitten by you this evening?" 

"Harry, you and I share the same blood. Although I admit I want to taste you, it's not to taste your blood." He rather liked this sword he was playing with. Flirting with danger was something he would have to be careful of in the future, given his line of work. 

"Oh, God," Harry muttered out as her hands caressed his neck. He brought his hands to hers as well, tempted to touch the coolness of her skin. One touch would not be enough, though; he pulled his hand back slightly. "Wait for me up in my loft. I need about ten minutes to make sure everyone leaves here safely." 

A whoosh of air, the absence of her smell, and his gut told him she had vacated the room unnoticed. He glanced up to the railing that surrounded his upstairs loft bedroom and could feel her eyes penetrating through the darkness to him. He needed to get everyone out and quickly. 

He made his way over to Draco. The guy may be a massive asshole, but he proved useful in some situations. 

"Hey Draco, I need to ask a favor..." Harry said while assessing the situation. He could tell that most everyone had consumed a responsible amount of alcohol, except for Greg Goyle. Playing up his Eminem costume, he was currently showing off his rapping skills to the group of women. 

"I'm one step ahead of you. I saw you and your mistress of the night getting a little close and figured you could use a little alone time, So I called my driver..." 

"Draco, what..." Harry turned to his, for lack of a better word, friend and stared blankly. "You have a driver? On-call at 11 at night?"

The blond guy stared back and shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah..." saying the word like everyone had one. 

"All right, everybody, this party has gotten boring," Draco called to the small crowd, then looked over at Harry with his little asshole smirk. "How about we move this to the nightclub downtown? I have a limo that will be here in about...3...2...1." 

Just like that, there was honking outside Harry's fire escape window. 

An obnoxious yellow stretch hummer was waiting outside.  _ How the hell did he do that _ , Harry wondered to himself. There was a commotion as all the party-goers: Eminen, The Hulk, The Rock, A red devil, two Jasmines, A Ron Weasley look-alike, amongst others, made their way out of Harry's door to their awaiting chariot. Harry was amazed at how little effort he had to put into getting everyone out of his house. As Draco shut the door behind him, he sent Harry an exaggerated nod and a conspiratorial look. 

Working quickly, Harry rambled through and cast a stasis charm on all the leftover food in the dining room. With Hermione being a magical creature, he wasn't breaking any secrecy laws. He then ditched his robes and cast a breath-freshening charm on himself before casting a lock on the door and sprinting up the stairs. 

Harry glanced around the room for Hermione, knowing she was there, just not sure where. His training helped him locate her just as she was putting her arms around his midsection. 

"I have so many questions..." Harry exhaled out as he relished the feel of her cold hands, pulling his t-shirt out from his waistband.

From her position behind him, Hermione drew his shirt off his torso effortlessly. She replaced her hands on his taut stomach as she kissed casually against his spine. "I know you do, love, and we will get to those. But I have wanted you to kiss me since the night Ron was lying unconscious underneath us."

They both let out a chuckle at that memory. Harry turned around and brought her body close to his. Sure, he had questions, a lot of questions, but as he looked into the face of his first love, he realized all those questions could wait. Harry gripped her sharp chin in his hands; he didn't care what she looked like, which in this case was stunning, or that she was technically an immortal that fed on blood. He knew she had spent the last five years wrestling with the same questions he had now. 

Harry bent to take her lips in a tender embrace, his brain pausing him with one last reminder that he was about to kiss a vampire. His dick and his heart disregarded his mind promptly. As his lips met hers, he knew that the world could go to hell at that moment, and he would not care. 

She was right; this was right.

Her lips, surprisingly full, given their firm look, answered his. Harry felt he could kneel at the altar of her mouth forever as she kissed him, ever so carefully so as not to nip him with her fangs. Each brush of their lips made them both more confident that she could manage this without hurting him.  Harry tugged his fingers through her mahogany tresses as he moved her head back to suck at where her pulse should be rioting. She rasped out his name. 

"I'm so sorry. I’m not hurting you, am I?" Harry asked shyly before renewing his kisses up the slender column of her neck. Hermione laughed and then growled as she splayed her hands over his lower back. 

"Only you would apologize for possibly hurting a vampire," Hermione answered as she shoved him back onto his waiting bed. "Let's just say it's the right kind of hurt with my heightened senses." At some point, she had disposed of her jacket and was now standing at the end of the bed, removing her tank top's thin fabric.

She wasn't wearing a bra. Her flawlessly generous breasts created the most breath-taking cleavage as her arms went to work slowly on her pants' zipper. Noticing that Harry was enjoying the little show if his tented jeans were any indication. She turned to bend at the waist to push the tight fabric down, wiggling her ass tantalizingly. 

Several times, Harry had to remind himself to breathe as he absorbed the sight of her. Wearing nothing but a thin pair of black panties, she stalked over to the bed and slithered over his lying form. Hermione brought her lips to his but halted just before they met. Reaching up, she removed his glasses to look him in the eyes as his soft puffs of air met her lips eagerly. Feeling his breath on her tongue and lips made her slightly intoxicated. Oxygen being something she didn't necessarily pay attention to as she needed it less than a human would. 

Harry thrust himself up into her lower body, needing to feel some type of contact. She moaned and threw her head back at the action. Harry took the opportunity to take one of her rose-colored nipples into his mouth and sucked gently, earning a whimper from the creature above him. 

"I want to taste you," Harry mumbled out as he started to shuck out of his jeans. The damn things were just getting in the way. 

Hermione simply looked down at him with sheer passion vibrating through her gaze and climbed up until her knees were on either side of his head. She stretched the edge of the black lace to the side of her plump pinkish lower lips and positioned herself above his mouth. 

"Oh God," he cried as his tongue swept up her slit. If he were a dying man, and that still may be a possibility tonight, her taste would be his chosen last meal, and he could think of nothing more divine. He reached behind her to push her further onto his mouth, settling into a comfortable position. He skimmed his tongue back and forth along her crease, appreciating not only the delicious liquid dripping from her core but also her moans and purrs. He swept and rolled his tongue in and around her opening while using his nose to stroke gradually against her sensitive bud.

It could have been hours or days, but in reality, it was probably only mere moments. Not long enough, to say the least, before Hermione was screaming and thrashing above him, her thighs clenching tightly around Harry's ears. 

Hermione's orgasm overtook her.

One of the few things he knew about vampires was they did not need to breathe the way a human does. So, to see Hermione panting intensely as she squirmed over his tongue told him it was either muscle memory or just really that powerful of an orgasm. He chose to believe the latter. 

Hermione scooted down his body until his erect cock was poised right at her soaked entrance. He could feel her lips ghosting across his neck as an agile finger plucked at his nipple. Harry typically was not one to tempt fate, but he believed he needed to feel her drink from him as they joined. Her earlier comments came back to him 'It could kill us both, or... Be the single most intense thing either of us will ever feel.'

"Take me, Hermione, while I take you..." With his hand, he brushed the head of his cock against her sensitive bud. All the while, she drew his earlobe between her lips. 

"Harry, I don't know... I don't want to hurt you." Hermione gasped into his ear, making the need in him grow even more.

"I trust you. I need you." The head of his weeping cock was now at her soaked opening, waiting for her to bite him before he would plunge into her. There was no doubt in his mind this  _ had _ to happen. He turned his head, giving her full access to his neck and the pumping artery beneath his warm flesh. 

"I need you, too," was all she said as he sank her teeth into his neck, while also settling down onto his cock.

Harry had just a brief amount of pain before the sinful pool of fire in his abdomen, yearning for release, tore his attention from her rhythmic sucking on his neck. He felt his blood leaking into her waiting mouth just as he felt his rock hard cock, filling her fully and completely. 

Power coiled inside him, ready to release and join inside her. The scent of her, the musk of sex and blood pushed him to drive harder inside of her. She met each thrust with her own, spreading up him as she slid up and down. 

Their movements got sharper as she continued to drink from him, both above and below. Harry knew she would stop before she got too far. He really did trust her, and being someone who held onto trust tightly, it was a joyous feeling, on top of all the other emotions, to be with someone he trusted so much. 

Harry felt her tensing around him, the beginning of another orgasm for her. He would not last long at all. His mind was ready to explode at the new sensations. He felt more than heard her moan against his neck, and that was his final undoing. 

Harry exploded inside her with a throaty grunt as she sucked hard. She then shot up to ride out her orgasm on top of him. 

Harry was breathing hard enough for both of them. She came back down to lick at the puncture wounds on his neck to seal them properly, undulating slowly atop him, still waiting for the spinning to dissipate. 

"Harry..." She started breathlessly; once again, he would take that as a salve to his ego that he made a vampire breathless. "That was amazing. I've never felt anything like that before." 

"Yes, well. If I have anything to say about it. It won't be the last." 

Harry reached up to where she had collapsed on top of him and kissed her gently on her lips. A smile curved her mouth, displaying her sharp fangs, a small smear of blood marred the otherwise serene picture. It was actually quite endearing. Harry experimentally kissed at the blood, his own. 

But something hit him at that moment. It wasn't just his blood. They had, a long time ago, shared the same blood. That is what Hermione meant by it could kill them both. Her drinking her own blood could have hurt her. She had wanted him, to please him, to have him so severely that she took the risk, even when he didn't understand all that was at stake. 

He knew at that moment, Hermione loved him, just as much as he loved her. 

"Now, about those questions..." She commenced while nuzzling into his side comfortably. 

"We've got an eternity to get around to those." 


End file.
